Chicano Poet

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

If Truths Be Told


She was sitting on the toilet
when the first plane hit the tower,
she died with urine still trickling down her thighs.

He’d been in Baghdad two weeks,
was out on his first patrol,
had just farted, when a sniper’s bullet

found a sweet home in his head.
That’s the thing about death,
thought Henry to hisself while he jerked off---

his wife of thirty years having made her vagina
into an abandoned Polack church
in Czestochowa, Texas, long ago.

1 Comments:

At 4:44 PM, Blogger Ivan Donn Carswell said...

Hey Reyes, I note the irony here which, as usual, you post with breathtaking economy. I also note you scored on Blogged.com with a 9.3. Congrats too. When you gonna link?

 

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